Not My Romeo (The Game Changers 1)

And once the play is over, I’ll never see her again.

But why do I feel so . . . wrong?

Sure, we can fuck, but she wants more.

Everything I can’t give her. Full trust, commitment.

A long exhalation leaves my chest as I lean my head back against the couch.

Chapter 25

ELENA

I don’t know what wakes me up. My eyes blink open in the darkness of a room that is vaguely familiar, and the pillow underneath my head is plush and soft. Jack’s bed. The clock next to my bed shows it’s ten o’clock at night, and I start. I must have fallen asleep, and he carried me in here. Clothes still on. I ease up to sitting, glad for the moonlight coming in from the window as I sweep my gaze over the room. Where’s Jack? My body warms at how sweet he was to me earlier, and his singing? Terrible. I smile. Has anyone ever seen this side of him? That softness? The care he takes when he’s worried?

I slip out of bed and pace the room, checking the master bathroom. Empty.

I pad out to the den and see him stretched out on the couch, one arm off the couch and on the floor. He put me to bed but didn’t join me, when it clearly would have been more comfortable. Yeah. He needs his distance just like I do. With a glance I see that he’s hung up my clothes on a hanger and draped them over the chair at his desk. My garment bag and purse sit on top of the surface. I don’t see the pie anywhere, and I figure maybe he put it in the fridge. He can keep it. He deserves it after doctoring my knees. I chew on my lips and head to the kitchen, moving quietly, to look for a pen and paper to leave him a note before I go.

I get it written, thanking him for everything, and walk back into the den, setting the note on the coffee table. I glance down at him, my eyes tracing the planes of his face, the full lips that are slightly parted, the mahogany hair that falls across his face. Damn. Just damn. All that hotness—right here. I exhale.

His eyes pop open, finding mine. “Elena.”

I grab my chest. “You’re awake! I thought you were asleep.”

“Hard to sleep when you’re staring at me.” He grins, easing up to a sitting position, rolling his shoulders.

“You couldn’t have been comfortable out here.”

“Nah, I was fine. You passed out during the show.”

“Sorry. This week caught up with me.”

He stretches as he stands, and I swallow at the fact that he’s removed his shirt at some point, the muscles of his chest flexing as he rolls his neck and pulls at his arms, as if he’s warming them up. His gaze flicks over me, lingering on my mouth before looking behind me. “You were just going to leave?”

I nod.

“You think I’d let you walk to your car this late? Hell no.”

I cross my arms. “I’m a big girl. Plus this is a safe neighborhood.”

“With pockets of bad. It is downtown.”

“I’ll be fine.” I take a step away from him, decidedly not looking at his taut muscles.

“Hmm, aren’t you forgetting something?” He gives me a heavy-lidded look.

I lick my lips. “No, all my stuff is on the desk. Thank you.”

His body moves closer, his hand reaching out to brush against my mouth. “You owe me a kiss, Elena. For the song.”

My chest rises.

“Give it to me.”

Shivers wash over me at that tinge of authority in his voice. I like it so much, that heat in his tone.

You got this, Elena. Just kiss the man, and be done with it—maybe on the cheek just to irk him—and that’s totally what I plan to do, but as soon as I ease closer to him and feel the heat of his chest under my hands, my body takes over. I slide my fingers up and wrap them around his nape, my eyes holding his. I have no self-control apparently when it comes to him, and no matter what my head says, that I shouldn’t get lost in his lips, I already know I want to. I’m dying for his mouth on mine again.

Just one, just one, just one.

I tug his head down and lick at his lips, and he parts them, letting me in as I kiss him softly. He sighs against me, his arms wrapping around my waist to pull me tightly against him. He lets me lead, and I do, exploring him, tasting him, groaning at the smell of his skin, at the brush of his chest against his shirt I’m still wearing.

He takes over, his fingers digging into my ass, his lips slanting across mine, harder, more insistent.

“Elena . . . ,” he murmurs. “I’ve never loved kissing this much.” His mouth takes mine again, and I melt into him, my leg hitching against his hips. My fingers tug on his hair as he runs his hand down my thigh, stroking and kneading. “Can’t resist this,” he rumbles against my neck. “I put you in bed and wanted to get in there with you so goddamn bad.”